Rough
by Ginnalka
Summary: The story of Athiyk Jathala'jess, a hunter whose world is split apart, chopped up, and jigsawed together, time and again. Rough is an autobiography, usually in her point of view, telling readers just how the Silvertusks, and later on Ginnalka, came to be.
1. The Beginning and the End

Disclaimer: Athiyk is an OC that I created, and so she's (c) to me. The village and all its' characters are (c) to me. For that matter, any characters that I am using are either (c) to friends that I have consulted, or are still (c) to me. The storline is (c) to me as well. Any mentions of anything pertaining to WoW and its' lore are probably (c) to WoW. If not? Then (c) to respective owners.

Who reads this shiznat..? The lawyers are gonna come get me..

Read. Enjoy. And for the love of all things good, PLEASE review. It keeps me writing, helps me out and such.

Thanks!

* * *

I have reached out like this a hundred times before; with my fingertips so close, stretching as far as they can possibly go, but still not quite touching. It is an almost painful feeling, to know that if my arm was just a little bit longer that I might be able to touch what it was I was reaching for. And every time I am caught in this situation, it is the same thing; something in me is screaming at me -- I will never be able to touch what I am reaching for. I will never be able to _quite_ reach it; it will never be enough. But here I am, in the same scenario, and I am still reaching. With all of my might I am reaching, and the words in my mind as but a hissing bit of machinery that I am - at this point - able to quietly ignore. In my time of desperation, and only then, do I find such an ability to ignore it. When I have really had enough, _that _is when I find myself reaching for what seems like hours on end, for days, maybe even months.

But it's this time that they actually aren't the reason I am reaching - maybe that's why. Maybe it's because the voices on the other side of the wall I have finally got my hand pressed flat against _aren't _screaming, or snarling. Maybe it's because they aren't cursing, or speaking in a language I can't understand. And the world that I press that wall away from myself to walk in to isn't so full of harsh light; and my head doesn't ring like it used to. In fact..

I am lying flat. With something cool, and wet upon my forehead. It slowly becomes apparent to me that I am in a tent, too -- not some room filled with torture-objects and devices that could make Amani cry. I'm very slowly waking, though. Painfully slow.

Above me there is but a small hole that reveals a starry sky to me. The smoke that travels up and out of the opening is hardly obscuring the beautiful, blue and white view. In all the minutes that pass, only at the end of them do I begin to realize that there is a voice speaking to me. The dialect is strange, I haven't heard it in a long, long time. But it's not so foreign to me that I cannot understand it, or be understood in my own tongue for that matter. In fact, if anything I could be speaking Common and by the reaction the dark-skinned female gives me when I speak; she's overjoyed regardless.

But why? I can't think enough to ask her this, but she explains to me anyways; it's been days, even a week, since my eyes were last open. I can understand that. The memories that are slowly coming back to me are harsh ones, but the last time I had my eyes open there was a blinding sun, and.. trolls. Male trolls. And lots of them; like a hunting party, or a search-party. But, again, I don't seem to feel of mind enough to bother asking about it. I feel so light; I can tell that I don't have all of my heavy armor on. It's been a longer time still since that had been. And by the sound of it the she-troll beside me has begun to chastise me about the very subject; but I'm not listening. My mind is drifting away from me again. I'm out..

* * *

Here I am again! Years later.. Reaching towards that same wall that keeps me from consciousness. But this time it's not so difficult to jerk just a little bit closer so that my hand sticks flat to it like a magnet. ...this time, however I'm not pushing. What is it that I am going to open my eyes to? Are things going to prove themselves to be just a dream? I've been dreaming a lot. It seems like years could have passed, I've been dreaming so much. And I saw my brother in that dream. Din'yai.. maybe he will be there when I open my eyes. There's the off-chance that those Southshore blaggards didn't actually drag him away, and chase the rest of us off of that waterfall. But that's unlikely.. it would be too good to be true, after all. I might not even accept it!

I'm being shaken, now that I'm around enough to realize it. There's a small pair of hands jostling me; a child. But then there's another pair.. and then another. The brats really want me awake, it looks like. I suppose I'll have to answer them, I sigh to myself in my sleep. No, it's so comfortable. To not say a thing, to stay in my own little corner of Dream Land. It's so peaceful! Why do they have to poke and prod me like that? I'm going to swat every single one of--

"M'up." The tones and words that they use have become more familiar to me now that I've spent some time in this place. Even the blathering nonsense that the little-ones at my bedside are spouting out is able to be understood despite its' speed; as I sit up I am able to listen. Though I'd prefer not to, considering the topic. I'm only half-listening as I rise to put on a little bit of my armor; no one will let me wear it to bed anymore.

"They're waiting for you, Athiyk sister!" One of them manages to speak loud enough that I can differentiate between the lot of the tykes. It's Ya'di, and he's pretty frantic.

"Why are they waiting for me? Who?" My voice is a gravely growl now that I've woken up a little more. Though, it's usually about that anyways. I don't talk much around these people, despite how long I've been here. "I was asleep, you know. The Loa will spite you if you wake sleeping soldiers."

"You're not a soldier, Sister! You're Athiyk!" That was Er'sha. Sweetest little girl I'd ever met; one of my best friends ever since I woke up. Refused to let me live in the mind set that there was and always would be war. I am no soldier, I am a troll.. "Chief Yin'dayo is waiting for you by the river. They've been there since morning, watching the boats come in!" ..and now I'm a troll in trouble. What could they need me for?

"Boats? From where?" I am going to start asking these little guys about more than they do or should know. Without waiting for an answer to my question, I've already grabbed one of my axes and rushed past the flap of my tent. Let them rummage my room for shinies and goodies; I really don't care at this point as much as I might have usually. Qo'wadi will be looking for them soon, anyways, the worried old hen-mother that she is. This and other such rubbish is on my mind as I reach the pens where all of the mounts are kept, and seeing as there isn't much in the way of war going yet, I'm happy to settle for something that's quick. In no time, I'm on the back of some giant lizard that's chirping and yowling with excitement as I drive it out of the village and towards the dunes. It's quite a ride to get to the river, but I can already see the sails of boats from far off.

Yin'dayo was right to send for me. I recognize them..


	2. Luck of the Draw

We are a people of villages and tribes. A people that wears face masks and paints our skin with colors that might seem flambouyant or too bright by many cultures; we dance around fires, and sing in wild languages. We are a people that takes instinct by the tusks, no pun intended, and uses it to our comfort and advantage. We are, in a simple term, animals. But to us, being an animal is not just being a mindless creature that knows only a shelter, a mate, and the prey. No. Being an animal means being that much closer to the nature and living things around us; understanding our Loa, our spirits, and our gods. In some ways we are like the tauren, only.. more admittedly primative. In the somewhat backwards world we live in, we are comfortable, and we don't like war any more or less than anyone else. Being an animal, to us, is the affection we show when we click our tusks with one another in greeting, or when foreheads bump together after a battle won and the sweaty, calloused palms of our warriors are filled with their lover's bredth again. Being an animal is having passion, and knowing where to put it; where to aim it and make it work for us. Kind of like habit. Being an animal just means that there isn't a better term for it. It is not derogatory.

It's not like we don't _know _we're trolls.

* * *

She'd not always been a battle-hardened warrior, little Athiyk. At one time there had been peace even in the wake of war, after war. Battle after battle. At one point even the Hinterlands had seen a sliver of that peace. Had not sent their children away to safety -- for so few knew where troll-tykes actually were, these days. At one point, they had been the ones to create the little messages 'pon the ruins of whatever stone building had been in place to the village's north; they were the ones that wore it down with the elements by climbing, and messing about in the natural jungle-gym. Revantusk village had no shortage of little ones, but they were a branch that held what neutrality it could. At one point, that's where she'd been. Playing with her brother -- roughhousing and dancing amongst the grassy shores of their home. Happy, short-tusked little female with wild red hair that whispered of her Amani heritage..

At one point, 'Horde' was a word only of her dreams, and of legend. She wondered about it; about the visitors they would sometimes get. The giant horned beasts; Tauren. Even the green-skinned orcs. All were creatures that she had been sheltered from. At that young age, it was pointless to teach a peaceful mind what the world outside was really like. She'd sit in her mother's arms and listen to stories; snuggle with Din'yai, her younger brother, and be told tales that they would then dream about. It raved in their minds like a fantasy world; a world that they might never actually be able to reach out and touch, but also a world that they played in every time they headed for those ruins. A world that they lived in eachother's heads just by play-fighting. ..but it was never, ever real.

"Din'yai.. who are those soldiers?" Their clicking, interesting tongue was clear to eachother. Like human speaking to human -- one never had an accent in their own language, did they? Even so, the boy turned to his sister in order to question her with those big amber eyes from betwixt his tusks.

"What, Ath?"

"Look." Her three-fingered hand reached down the tree to flick her brother's head in the right direction, and sure enough there was a small band of purple and blue-skinned trolls that were heading inside the small gates of the village. They were no threat -- that was obvious by the way the guards smiled, and the Chieftain of the village rushed from his building to greet them -- but they were still foreign to the children. Having never seen a Jungle Troll, anything that wasn't green-skinned with a bit of moss and fur on the side meant that they were different. Not bad.. just different. Worth investigating! "Who d'you think they are?"

Din'yai watched his sister; mesmerized and awed by the hulking armor, and the beasts the strangers rode. He was not to impressed, obviously. In fact, the little troll-boy merely frowned, flicking a long ear. "If there's that many of them, they may be bringers of bad news. Let's stay out--"

"Why?" She'd already set off running back towards Revantusk!

"Athiyk!" Din'yai cried, racing after his sister. But by the time he'd reached her, still calling for her, he found himself amidst the long legs of their Jungle-born kin. And it appeared that they preferred to speak orcish..

"'ey littah mon! Watch where ja step, o' ja run in to mah axe." It was that grinning face that turned to show him his sister, thereafter. He tried to ignore the foul-smelling breath of the malnourished warrior, and instead pushed his way right on past the staring eyes to Athiyk. She stood with their mother, the Chieftain, and what appeared to be the leader of this restless brigade. A giant troll, he was. And he spoke their tongue, which made things a little easier to listen to. But the names.. Vol'jin.. Thrall.. The subject was as foreign to him as a new language, and he sought his mother for a translation. It was Athiyk who tugged him away to give him his answers.

"They're from Orgrimmar, Din'yai. They're from the Horde!"

"So what?" He was indignant, and as they sat on their floor-mat and she fetched them some jerky to chew on.. he remained insatiable whilst the group of trolls jabbered and talked to the side. "Who cares? We see the Horde come here from time to time. Never like this. Only one. Maybe two. What's so special about this?"

"They might train some of the Revantusk! The War Chief is allowing it!"

"..they'll probably take Um'unga." He was a powerful leader amongst what few men the Revantusk had. One of the few trolls that had known their father before he went out to the war. For this very reason, in fact. Athiyk was determined to follow in his footsteps! Join the Horde and help the war! "Why are you so excited? They're going to bring the war here!"

But now it was she that was dreamy; she imagined herself astride one of the giant velociraptor mounts that their people were so fond of using for travel. She pictured herself in hulking armor, wielding a humongous axe and maybe one of those giant shields! She could just see it now; leading troops in to battle. Answering only to Vol'jin of the Horde's Darkspear. Bloodied and grimy from battle, and this was exciting! She longed for the battlefield! Her father and their older brother had been warriors; fiercly painted and honored in the tribe. Even their mother had seen a touch of war-time. But these two..? "Athiyk.." That was her brother, but his voice was so far away! The little Jathala'jess had wandered off to day-dream land and wasn't coming back for any one! Well.. "Athiyk!"

She blinked. Hissy that her dreams had been waved away back in to the sands of time by the three-fingered hand that waved in her face. "Agh!" The girl sighed, swatting the hand away and pegging the rest of her jerky at the other kid-troll. "It would be great!" Nothing could go wrong, there! Even in death, the spirits were there to guide them! Death wouldn't meet them truly until it was their time! Priests could heal the worst of wounds! Miracles! She was telling all of this to Din'yai, who looked less than enthusiastic. She was so enthralled with the idea, though, that she did not notice the shadpw that had fallen over them. It was that troll that had been speaking to the chief, and to their mother. Now he sat -- crouched, really -- over the two little trolls, eyeing, specifically, the one that seemed so active. In fact, Din'yai rather shrinked when he finally noticed that they were being so closely watched by a scared up face; those tusks were more than huge..

"Yeah.. they'll make good warriors." Despite the dark armor, the large shield, the big axe.. his voice was gentle. So gentle! To the point that Athiyk paused and looked up at him. It was such a casual form of their language, too. Slurring words together, speaking like there wasn't a care or worry about. He even smiled. And this handsome creature spilt blood on a daily basis! Ath found herself briefly dumbstruck while she and her brother moved to rise, adjusting their clothes and hair and such. Even standing, they were barely as tall as the wild hair of the Captain before them. "We'll head out, then. Say your goodbyes, little Athiyk, little Din'yai. You'll not see your mother for awhile. Such is the way of war." The last few words were spoken as if a motto; as if he said them alot. In just the right tone, at just the right moment. They were his finishing words as he rose and stepped on off to speak amongst his men.

But the little trolls would have no more eavesdropping; they both rushed past the group to meet their mother as she sat and offered them open arms. And when they embraced, suddenly all the honors and excitements of the world seemed so very little to Athiyk. She wanted nothing more to remain in that woman's arms. Din'yai felt it worse, though. It'd take him more time to get over it. Ath was already reasoning with herself that this was how it had to be. And they could always come back! "Such is the way of war.." Their mother now repeated those words, in her light, slightly rasped voice. The scar on her throat could tell so many tales! "Don't fret, Din'yai.. no tears shed in the wake of captains and soldiers. You're both growing very well. You will be wonderful out there, I know it.." But there was a pain in her voice. Natural for a mother, of course.. still.. the fact remains that she seemed ready to let them go, for awhile. "Hush now, my boy, you don't see your sister crying."

"What if I don't want to go?" Din'yai keened softly, gazing up at his mother from between his two little tusks. Athiyk laughed softly, and reached to toussle his mohawk head of hair.

"We'll do this together!" Surely they would train in the same area; be fed the same food and given the same choice of scraps of armor and weapons! "We'll become like Ga'eyo and Papa! Fierce warriors!" She even saw fit to flex her little arms to try and cheer her sulking sibling. Din'yai was happily lightened, despite himself.

"Alright.. I guess we can try it. If I don't like it, though, I want to come back here!"

"Certainly." Their mother smiled upon them, setting her little ones down and offering them both two little sacks filled with necessities. "You will take these with you. It's a little bit of food and water for the long trip, as well as some herbs and such, in case of wounds. You'll have to get used to washing your clothes int eh river, again. Remember? Like when we went to that temple.."

"Yes, Mama. We know!" Athiyk was eagar to leave! A kiss was pressed to her mother's cheek, and the same came from Din'yai. The two little bag-bearing trolls were turned around to face the co-captain of the group. Rather than smiling fondly down at them, like the gentle and quiet captain, this one was a grinning mess of dreadlocks and side-ways tusks. His armor was no less impressive, anyways!

"Ja mind if weh be speakin' Orcish? Ah not be vereh good at yo' tongue!" There was a little laugh in his voice, and the smile on his face was enough to get even Ath's little brother to cheer some more. They both nodded, and were met again by his booming voice. The little army of trolls was beginning to move out. "Great, little mons! Come on, den!" All at once, two huge arms were bringing them up and on to the flat surfaces of his pauldrons. He sat them there on his shoulders and supported them with his arms for a little while. He didn't stop talking, either. Chattering away and telling jokes and little stories that made the two children laugh. Took their mind off leaving their mother, as if it was no big deal. They would be back soon!

If only they'd known how false that idea really was. If only they'd known what was really in store for them..


End file.
